


Things of Beauty

by lyryk (s_k)



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: AU Post-CotBP, First Time, Fluff, Hurt!James, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-09
Updated: 2009-08-09
Packaged: 2018-02-10 19:00:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2036406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/s_k/pseuds/lyryk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A feeling of confinement, an unexpected gift, and stargazing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Things of Beauty

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to the_cornettist and porridgebird.

James hadn’t anticipated spending Easter weekend in bed with a broken leg. When he tried to recall his previous Easter, he couldn’t even recollect how he’d spent it. It must have been another day at the office, he supposed. Things hadn’t changed much since his promotion to Commodore, except that he had a lot more paperwork and much less sailing to do. 

He missed the sea terribly. He had a feeling the _Dauntless_ missed it too. As the flagship of the Royal Navy fleet in the Caribbean, she wasn’t required to sail out of the harbour very often. As her captain, James was forced to stay at the fort on most days while ships required to perform more menial tasks sailed in and out of the harbour. In the seven months since his promotion, he’d begun to feel more and more like a prisoner. Perhaps even more hapless than a prisoner… more like a bird in a cage with clipped wings. He would gladly have traded all the military authority in the world for a chance to stretch his sea-legs, and his ship’s, more often. No one in the Caribbean had more authority than he did, and no one was less free than he was. The only ‘progress’ in his future could be a promotion to Admiral, whereupon he would probably never see the inside of a ship again, save when they cocooned his body in a shroud and buried him at sea.

Although he’d barely turned thirty, it felt as though his days of being young were long past. Lately, he’d begun to feel oppressed by the very duties that had once excited him. The Naval career that had once seemed so full of promise seemed to rest upon his shoulders now like a yoke that he would bear for the rest of his life. James had never shied away from duty, but duty was very different when performed on a ship at sea with the wind in his face; from behind the walls of Fort Charles, duty felt like a force that would asphyxiate the life out of him. 

James did not usually have such thoughts, for duty kept him busy. The pain of a broken leg had almost been worth the relief of staying away from his prison to begin with, but two days past and he was already feeling far more restless than even when he was forced to spend long hours within the concrete walls of the fort. On the second night of his confinement in bed, he began to fear that delirium would set in out of sheer inactivity. He had spent most of the previous day and night drifting in and out of sleep with the drugs the Navy surgeon had given him, but that night, he was wide awake. He had, of course, forgotten to tell Taylor, his valet, to bring him some reading material from his study before he retired for the night. Having been warned quite sharply by the doctor to not attempt getting on his feet for the next fortnight, and not having the desire to risk doing anything that might result in a permanent limp, he was forced to remain sedentary. 

Consequently, when he awoke sweating and restless from an unremembered dream to find Jack Sparrow sitting on the window-seat across the room, it was not unnatural to assume that he was indeed, as he’d feared, delirious. 

Why he would choose to have that particular hallucination, however, was a mystery. As far as hallucinations went, Sparrow wasn’t even particularly unpleasant. In fact, he looked quite magical as he sat there with one leg crossed over the other, the moonlight catching the absurd ornaments in his hair. He was leaning back on his palms, his head tilted to one side, watching James with the lazy grace that was typical of his movements. By god, he even seemed to be moving when he was perfectly still. Come to think of it, James couldn’t remember a time when he’d seen him perfectly still. The very air around him always seemed to crackle with irrepressible energy, as it was doing now. 

He noticed James stirring and grinned, his mouth a glint of gold in the near-darkness. ‘Awake, are we?’ 

Even as his ears registered the low, amused rumble in Sparrow’s tone, James realised in the same instant that he was no hallucination. The absolute peril of his situation struck him a moment before Sparrow jumped lightly to the floor, his boots noiseless against the carpeting. James was in bed, unarmed, with a broken, bandaged and splinted leg. Even if he could manage to get to his feet, the pirate would have ample time to slit his throat before he could even attempt to defend himself. 

Perhaps his attempt to disguise his apprehension was genuinely successful, but James doubted it. It seemed far more likely that Sparrow’s innate narcissism blinded him to what James was feeling. He took a step toward James and whistled softly, as if in surprise. 

‘What?’ James asked irritably. ‘If you’re going to kill me, get it over with.’ 

Sparrow frowned. ‘Kill you? If I wanted to do that, Commodore, I’d have done it a long time ago.’ 

‘Then why are you here?’ 

‘Why, I’m just visiting. Heard you weren’t quite well, and all.’ 

‘Just visiting. Of course.’ 

He chuckled, a strangely warming sound that almost lulled James into a false sense of security before he halted himself, remembering that that was probably exactly what it was intended to do. 

‘Anyway,’ Sparrow said, as if continuing an interrupted conversation. ‘What I was about to say was, you look very different without the wig and the uniform.’ 

‘Different,’ James repeated blankly as Sparrow settled himself comfortably at the foot of the bed, sitting cross-legged and resting his chin in one hand. 

He nodded earnestly, his various bits of jewellery clinking softly. ‘Different,’ he confirmed, tilting his head again to survey James. ‘With your hair all dark and loose like that. I didn’t even know you had dark hair. You look like a poet.’ 

‘Don’t be absurd, Sparrow.’ 

‘Captain, love. Captain, or Jack. You know that well enough by now.’ 

James sighed, wondering what madness was making him humour Sparrow. Surely he could raise an alarm and rouse someone, or figure out a way to overpower him. Strangely, he felt the inclination to do neither. Perhaps it was just that he was curious about Sparrow’s intentions, for it was rapidly appearing improbable that he was there to murder James. Which in itself was a matter of curiosity: why would a notorious pirate break into the home of a known pirate hunter, if not to attack him? 

And yet, James had not asked. He had not attempted to demand an explanation for Sparrow’s presence in his home, nor objected to his making himself comfortable on James’s bed. He knew that was less to do with bravery than with his growing disillusionment with everything. Something in Sparrow, however, brought out something instinctual in James, made him retain the façade of authority that it was sometimes easy to put on in Sparrow’s presence. At no time had it seemed as inauthentic as it did then, with Sparrow perched at the end of James’s bed, and with James more curious than alarmed by his as-yet-unknown intentions. 

‘Please get off my bed, _Captain_ , before I raise the alarm and have you arrested.’ 

He chuckled again. ‘Bit too late to make threats, innit, Commodore?’ He leaned closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. ‘We both know you’d have raised the alarm already, if you’d been of a mind to do so.’ 

‘Why are you here, Sparrow?’ 

He shrugged his shoulders, more graceful and sylphlike than ever, and scooted closer to light the twin candles on the bedside table. James blinked, almost mesmerised by his movements. 

Sparrow grinned down at him. ‘Came, as I said, to visit. Since you were hurt, and all.’ He picked up the folded-up cloth from the table and gently dabbed the sweat away from James’s forehead, stilling him into astonishment. 

‘You’ve a fever,’ he said. James opened his mouth, but could find no words to respond, and shut it again. Sparrow nodded toward his injured leg. ‘How’d that happen?’ 

‘That’s for me to know,’ James said shortly, knowing he sounded a little petulant. 

Sparrow laughed, and despite his growing disbelief at the situation he found himself in, James could not help but notice that there was an utter lack of malice in that almost-musical sound. 

‘Maybe I already know.’ 

‘Really?’ James raised his eyebrows, even as he found himself drawn to the way Sparrow’s eyes were sparkling in the candlelight. ‘Then why do you ask?’ 

Sparrow smiled. ‘Maybe I just like listening to that voice of yours.’ 

James was almost glad then that his skin was flushed with fever, because he was certain that would have brought a blush to his cheeks. To respond to Sparrow that way should have been the most mortifying thought imaginable, but James was strangely at ease with him there, so close to him, in his bed. He reminded himself that that was one of Sparrow’s specialities… to lull his victims into a false sense of security. Even though he was aware of Sparrow’s skill at manipulation, he couldn’t help being charmed by him as well, and to marvel at his skill. James did manage, he thought, not to reveal to Sparrow the impression that he was having on him. 

‘Cat got your tongue?’ he teased. 

‘I was just wondering at how fascinating you are,’ James said evenly, and had the considerable satisfaction of seeing Sparrow’s eyes widen in astonishment. 

Before he could recover from his surprise, James propped himself up on one elbow and seized Sparrow’s wrist with his other hand. ‘Why are you here? I won’t ask again, I promise you that.’ 

Sparrow made no attempt to pull his hand away, and his wrist felt warm and solid in James’s grip. ‘Careful,’ he said calmly. ‘You might hurt yourself, making sudden movements like that.’ 

‘Sparrow, I’m in no mood for games.’ 

‘You’re not in any shape for them either, Commodore,’ he said, his tone almost gentle. He put his other hand over James’s, and rubbed his thumb along James’s knuckles. James couldn’t fathom why that gesture of his seemed so soothing, in a situation that should have had him lamenting that he did not have a weapon handy to defend himself with. 

‘I came to give you something, if you must know.’ James kept his grip firm on Sparrow’s wrist as he reached inside his coat and pulled out something long and cylindrical, and placed it close to James’s free hand. 

It was a telescope, and one of the most exquisite that James had ever seen. The mere sight of it was almost enough to make him forget momentarily that he was on his guard, although he did maintain his grip on Sparrow as he picked it up with his other hand. It was not only beautiful, but also one of the most unusual instruments of its kind that James had come across, for the body of it was made entirely out of wood. The surface was smooth and polished to perfection, and its flawless lenses caught the candlelight so brilliantly that it was almost difficult to look at them directly. 

At some point during his inspection of the beautifully-crafted instrument, James realised that he was holding it in both his hands, having let go of Sparrow without being aware of doing so. 

He looked up at Sparrow, and Sparrow grinned. ‘It’s not stolen, in case you were wondering.’ 

‘You made this, didn’t you?’ 

His grin softened to a smile, and he shrugged. ‘It’s a hobby of mine.’ There was neither modesty nor pride in his tone, just a craftsman’s acknowledgement of his craft. He didn’t ask how James had known. James could not have told him, for he didn’t know himself. 

‘Sparrow…’ 

‘Aye, Commodore?’ 

‘This is astonishingly beautiful. Why—why would you want to give it to me?’ 

‘Things of beauty, love.’ He stood up and straightened his hat, his mouth briefly glinting gold. 

‘Things of beauty,’ he said again, looking down at James for a moment. He was gone before James could think coherently enough to respond.

 

\--

 

The next time James woke up, he found himself at the military hospital, and learnt that his fever had gotten so severe that he had been delirious with it for over two days. The Navy surgeon, Dr Rice, refused to let him out of the hospital for several days, suspecting that the cause of the fever was an infection from his injured leg. Having no desire to lose a limb, James suffered his ministrations with as much patience as he could. The combined effects of quinine and laudanum stole what little appetite he had had, and left him nauseous during those hours in which he was somewhat awake. 

It was over a week later that he found himself back at home, by which time he was able to support himself using a walking stick, for which he was grateful, even if his stint in the hospital had left him feeling too weak to stand upright for too long at a stretch. Theo and Drew helped him up to his bedroom, where he was relieved to see the telescope resting safely on his bedside table. Theo’s sharp eyes noticed it immediately, and James was forced to fend his curiosity away by saying that a friend had shipped it to him from England. 

He hated having to deceive his friends, but he knew with absolute certainty that to even hint at the truth would be folly. He could not explain even to himself what had made him entertain Sparrow as a visitor, and to even attempt to explain it to two Navy officers would be futile, not least because James knew in his heart that he could not believe that Sparrow’s intentions had been anything but benevolent. 

Luck was on his side that night, for the sky was brilliantly clear. He wasn’t yet strong enough to walk out to the balcony by himself, so after Taylor and the rest of the staff had retired for the night, he lay on his stomach and trained the instrument on the sky outside the window above his bed. 

He had always enjoyed gazing at the night sky through a telescope. In some inexplicable way, it made him feel connected to the universe in a way that he had never felt connected to the world, at least not while he was on land. At sea, his senses felt sharper, and his mind felt more alert than ever. On land, particularly while he was on duty and even more so when he was forced to be part of a social gathering, he had begun to feel increasingly stifled.

James had two telescopes of his own, but it was Sparrow’s that he looked through that night, marvelling at the scope of its magnification, and the sharpness of its images. He’d been looking through it for less than an hour when he heard the soft scrape of boots against the windowsill across the room, and Sparrow was beside his bed by the time James had shifted to lie on his side.

‘I thought you would be long gone by now,’ James said as Sparrow sat down beside him.

There was no ready smile on Sparrow’s face this time. ‘There were rumours in town that you were dead, or dying.’

‘I can assure you I’m very much alive, Captain.’

Sparrow glared at him, looking intently at him as if trying to ascertain the truth of his statement. 

‘What’s your name?’ he asked suddenly, as unpredictable as ever.

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Your name, love. Surely your friends don’t call you ‘Commodore’?’

‘I fail to see how that could be your concern.’

He smiled. ‘Ah, but if we’re going to continue with this, then it is my concern.’ He leaned close, so close that one of his braids brushed James’s cheek. ‘Savvy?’

‘Continue with what, exactly?’ James’s mouth was suddenly very dry. He was much too close, and he smelled like the sea. A sudden wave of longing washed over him, so strong that he had to close his eyes for a moment.

‘This. You and me.’

‘As far as I am aware, people on different sides of the law hardly need to know each other’s first names.’ He was so close that James’s world quite literally consisted only of a pair of kohl-rimmed dark eyes at the moment.

He grinned, and James found himself relieved that he hadn’t taken offence at his statement.

‘Ah, just give it up, love. I’ll find out anyway, and I’d sooner hear it from your lips than anyone else’s.’

‘It’s James. And don’t call me ‘love’.’

‘James? Really?’

‘What? Of course, really.’

He kept looking down at James in astonishment. ‘That’s perfect. Perfect.’

‘Sparrow, you’re being ridiculous. It’s just a common Christian name.’ 

In response, Sparrow’s hands cupped James’s face. His fingers and palms were warm and calloused. ‘Tell me not to, and I won’t,’ he whispered.

James didn’t tell him not to.

The kiss was the softest brush of Sparrow’s lips against James’s. At that moment, James could not have formed a coherent thought if the fate of the world had depended on it. It was only for a moment that their parted lips touched, and then Sparrow drew back with a near-silent gasp, and James was immeasurably grateful, for that brief caress of his mouth against James’s had sent such a tremor of longing through James that his hands were fisted in Sparrow’s shirt, his fingers pressed against Sparrow’s warm bare chest.

‘You taste like water,’ he murmured, sounding as breathless as James felt, his hands still framing James’s face.

‘Water _has_ no taste,’ James protested, saying the first words that came to his mind, his senses utterly under Sparrow’s spell.

‘Have you ever been so thirsty you couldn’t stand it, and then you found the clearest, purest water imaginable? That’s what you taste like.’ 

Before James could even begin to think about what he had said, footsteps sounded in the corridor outside. ‘Jack—’ he began, alarmed beyond measure, but Jack was already out of bed, swiftly pressing a kiss upon James’s forehead before striding noiselessly to the window and disappearing into the night.

There was a soft knock, and Taylor entered. James could not feign sleep since his heart was still pounding, both with the effect of Jack’s kiss and the brief moment of fear that he would be discovered. 

Taylor set his candle down at the bedside table. ‘I was afraid you would be in discomfort, Commodore,’ he said, and James saw that his face was lined with anxiety.

‘I feel better than I have in days, Taylor.’

His sharp eyes glanced at the curtains billowing in the wind, and James was certain he knew that James had not been alone a minute before his arrival.

 

\-- 

 

James wasn’t sure if he could manage the stairs yet, but he needed fresh air, and he needed to smell the sea. So the following morning found him on his sun-warmed balcony, where Taylor had set up an armchair for him, and a small table for his breakfast. After he’d finished eating, he settled down in the sun with a book and a second cup of tea. 

Taylor took his time over clearing the breakfast things away, and James knew he was hovering because he wanted to say something. Unable to ignore his presence anymore, he reluctantly looked up from his book. ‘What is it?’

‘Sir, I wonder if I may be so bold as to inquire…’

‘Yes?’

‘If I may ask… where did you get that telescope?’

James was not surprised at the question, for he knew it must have been Taylor who had found Jack’s gift on his bed when James had been taken to the hospital. ‘Why do you ask?’

‘I know you received no delivery from England, James.’ He had dropped the ‘sir’ now, as was his wont whenever they entered a serious discussion. Since he had known James since his birth, James could hardly begrudge him the right to address him by his first name, nor even the right to offer him his advice.

‘I see.’

‘I don’t,’ he said evenly. ‘If I may be so bold as to point that out.’

James remained silent, looking down into his cup of tea.

‘I suppose I can also rightly assume that whoever gave it to you is also your night-time visitor,’ he went on.

‘Taylor—’

‘You needn’t fear my intentions, James. All I want is to caution you.’

‘I understand, but I will not be spied upon. Not even by you.’

He nodded, his face composing into a frosty mask. ‘If that will be all, I shall return to my other duties.’ He nodded curtly and left.

James let out a breath he wasn’t aware he’d been holding, and put his cup down on the table. The brief conversation had left several questions buzzing in his head. Had Taylor seen Jack? Would he consider James incapacitated by his fever, and override his authority? Would he report that James had been allowing a known criminal to enter his house?

He didn’t know the answers to the many questions in his head. What he did know was that Jack had entered his life like a rejuvenating breath of fresh air, and James was loath to entertain the thought that they might have to give up what they were only just discovering.

 

\--

 

He opened his eyes that night to find Jack curled up in the chair beside his bed, deep in James’s Aphra Behn book.

‘Morning,’ he grinned, shutting the volume. ‘It appears we have the same taste in books.’

‘Is it morning already?’ James turned on his side so he was facing Jack, and held his hand out to him.

Jack slid out of the chair and on to the bed beside James, slipping his fingers through James’s. ‘It’s just getting to be five.’

James squeezed his hand as Jack bent over him, his dark, heavy locks framing James’s face like a curtain that blocked out everything but Jack. ‘Have you been here long?’

‘Not very long,’ he smiled, stroking James’s hair away from his forehead.

‘You should have woken me,’ James said as Jack touched his lips lightly with his thumb, his breath warm on James face.

‘I like watching you sleep,’ he said a moment before his lips met James’s. His kiss was unhurried, sweet with the promise of everything yet unexplored, and demanding nothing in return. His mouth moved against James’s with barely a hint of pressure, and James closed his eyes as their lips parted against each other’s. Their tongues met slowly, softly, the sensation sweeter than any other James had known, and he knew that he was savouring a rare and precious joy. Without breaking the kiss, Jack slid his arm beneath James and settled in close beside him, his other hand stroking James’s hip lightly through his nightshirt.

‘Time for some rum, you think?’ he whispered as they broke apart.

‘I don’t think I could get any more intoxicated.’ James cupped the back of Jack’s neck with his hand and guided his head back down for another kiss, the taste of him more heady than any alcohol that he’d ever drunk.

‘Was that a yes or a no?’ Jack grinned when they pulled apart again.

James laughed. ‘Aye, Captain.’

‘Would you bolt the door?’ he said as Jack slipped out of bed. Jack nodded and gave him another quick kiss before doing as James had asked. He pulled out a flask from his pocket before shrugging out of his coat and discarding it on the chair, sitting down beside James again.

James took a sip from the proffered flask and handed it back. Jack rested one hand on the knee of James’s good leg as he raised the flask to his lips. ‘How’s the fever?’ he asked, rubbing James’s knee.

‘Much better.’ James hooked an arm around Jack's waist, and he slid closer.

‘You scared me, James. You were away so long, and the rumours I heard just about scared the life out of me.’

James watched him as he took another sip of rum. ‘Why, though?’

‘Why what?’

‘Why did the rumours that I was dying scare you? Why are you here at all?’ 

‘You don’t want me here?’

‘I do, Jack. I’m just… puzzled.’

Jack brushed a strand of hair away from James’s cheek, winding it around his fingers. ‘You seriously want to know?’

‘Of course I do.’

Jack grinned. ‘Have you looked in a mirror lately?’

‘Jack, do be serious.’

He leaned closer to kiss the tip of James’s nose. ‘I _am_ being serious, love. Things of beauty, and all that. And I don’t just mean your pretty angel-eyes, nor how lovely you look in that blue coat of yours. It’s something I saw in you, right from that first day on the docks, when you held your sword to my throat. I can’t resist that kind of passion, James. Passion for your beliefs, for what you do, for what you are.’

‘Are you talking about _me_?’ James asked, honestly bewildered.

Jack smacked his forehead. ‘Forgive me, I had you confounded with the other Navy Commodore I’m smitten with.’

‘He sounds like quite a fellow,’ James said lightly, trying to ignore the way his heart did a little flip in his chest at Jack’s words.

‘Oh, he is.’ Jack settled down comfortably beside James, folding his arms across James’s chest and resting his chin on them. ‘When he’s there, everyone else in sight seems pale in comparison, and not just ’cause he’s bloody beautiful. Even a prisoner in the brig can tell that his men think the world of him, and would follow him anywhere. That kind of man is hard to resist.’

‘He would also have you sent to the gallows,’ James said softly, placing his hand on the crown of Jack’s head and caressing his hair.

‘You were just being a Commodore, James, just as I was being a pirate.’

James caught his forearms and tugged him closer until he was straddling James’s hips. ‘You know what I _do_ remember most about that night we fought the undead pirates, when I look back on it now?’

Jack traced James’s lips with a fingertip. ‘What?’

‘That we fought Barbossa together. That he was the common enemy, despite you and I being on different sides of the law.’

Jack beamed at him. ‘Thought I’d need to do a lot more work on you before you caught on, Commodore.’

 

\-- 

 

To James’s relief, Taylor did not ask about Jack again. In fact, he seemed a little contrite the following day, and when he brought James his dinner that night, James could have sworn that the portions were large enough for two, as though he were indicating that he was giving his consent to the clandestine visits of James’s lover.

That night, Jack and James took the telescope out to the balcony. Jack sat with his back to the railing so that James could lean back against his chest, his bandaged leg stretched out in front of him.

‘All right?’ Jack asked, wrapping his arms around James’s waist, his chin resting on James’s shoulder. 

‘Perfect,’ James replied, tilting his head back against Jack’s shoulder, and the telescope was forgotten for a few minutes as they kissed leisurely. 

They spent a good two or three hours just looking at the stars, both with the telescope and without it. Jack pointed out the constellations with a child-like enthusiasm, charming James even further. He even had a few of his own, and traced elaborate imaginary lines between the stars to show James a mermaid here, or a dolphin there. ‘They wouldn’t even _look_ the same if one looked at them from another planet,’ James pointed out just to play devil’s advocate, even as Jack ran his lips along James’s throat and drove him to distraction. 

‘Rational Navy lad,’ Jack chuckled, his teeth nipping lightly on James’s earlobe, the caress immediately reminding James of the proximity of their bodies. 

‘Jack,’ he groaned softly, his hips pushing back involuntarily against Jack. 

‘Hold on, Commodore,’ Jack whispered into his hair. ‘One more first. We mustn’t forget our bella luna, gazing down so sweetly at us.’ The moon was just short of full that night, and they trained the telescope on it… or ‘her’, as Jack referred to the moon. ‘Some stories,’ he pointed out, ‘see her as the lover of the sun.’

‘Do they?’ James turned his head to look at Jack.

‘Mm,’ Jack said in confirmation, bending his head so their lips could meet. ‘The myth of Mawu,’ he continued when they came up for air, ‘says that she is the moon goddess, and that her lover is Lisa, the sun god.’

He guided the telescope back to James’s eyes, and they held it together as James looked through it, their hands close together on the polished wood. ‘How can they be lovers,’ James murmured, ‘if they can never meet?’

‘Ah, but they do meet,’ Jack said, tugging James’s shirt off his shoulder to nuzzle against his bare skin. ‘Whenever there’s an eclipse, that’s when Mawu and Lisa are making love. ’Sides, they’re also a single deity, Mawu-Lisa. So even when they’re apart, they’re just two halves of the same being.’

His hand stretched out in front of the lens, caressing the moon. ‘Almost makes me think I could catch a moonbeam,’ he murmured, his breath warm against James’s ear.

‘What would you do with it?’ James murmured back, leaning his head against Jack’s shoulder.

‘Plait it into your hair,’ Jack said without missing a beat, kissing James’s cheek as he slid his fingers through James’s hair.

‘You’ll have to be very quick. They can be slippery things, moonbeams.’

‘Aye,’ Jack breathed against James’s neck. ‘It’s difficult to hold on to one.’ His hand slipped beneath James’s shirt and caressed his chest, and James’s breath caught in his throat at the feel of those feather-light fingertips gliding across his skin.

‘I would never attempt to hold on to one.’ James arched his back as Jack’s other hand slipped beneath his shirt as well, his warm, calloused thumb caressing James’s navel.

‘What if it wanted to stay?’ Jack murmured, nibbling on the soft skin beneath James’s ear. ‘What if it wanted to adorn your beautiful self, stay braided in your hair for eternity?’

‘Then I would count myself immeasurably fortunate.’ James turned around and buried his face in Jack’s wild, wild hair, breathing in the fragrance of him, the fragrance of the sea, and knew that he would never again be able to distinguish the two from each other.


End file.
